


synonymous with fabulous

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, vlogger!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bambam, budding fashionista and ulzzang makeup vlogger, thinks The Jackson Show is material only fit to line virtual toilet bowls. Aforementioned Jackson attempts to change his sentiments. (and succeeds, but shh, no one's supposed to know)</p>
            </blockquote>





	synonymous with fabulous

**Author's Note:**

> a prompt fill from 2014 that i only thought to cross post over here now XD i'm honestly cringing at the way i used to write because ew, i have no idea what i was doing 50% of the time, and the typos i cry T.T i edited some of it but i sort of wanted to keep the tone and voice of the fic the same? hope yall enjoy hehe \o/

Kunpimook hates it when people don't tell him things.

Especially when those things have something to do with him, and said person involved is his supposed best friend. 

"What is that," he commands, when the fifth stifled giggle breaks the otherwise peacefully zen atmosphere in his room, and Yugyeom shakes his head, still laughing weakly, waving his hand in the universal sign that conveys "it doesn't matter".

(Conveying, obviously, that it matters to Bambam.)

"Spill," Kunpimook says dryly. When Yugyeom ignores him in favour of more laughter at whatever he's watching, (which is total blasphemy, by the way, for no one ignores the great Bambam without being promptly smote on the spot), he sighs at his best friend's idiocy and resigns himself to expending the energy to grumpily walk over in his designer fluffy house slippers, and tugging the jack out of the giant baby's laptop none too gently.

Immediately, a sharp, cackling laugh fills the room through the airy speakers, possibly louder and more obnoxious sounding than Youngjae at 2.46am in the morning when he's drunk (and that's saying something) and Bambam promptly scowls, disgusted that such audio garbage should be allowed to penetrate his room.

"Is that..." he musters as much distaste as he can in his voice, inhaling slowly as though it pains him to say the name, flinching as the words pass his own very much sacred lips. "…The Jackson Show?"

"You should see this guy, he's hilarious!" Yugyeom wheezes after another bout of laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. Bambam rolls his eyes- who hasn't heard of Jackson? True, he's one of the most popular Youtubers in South Korea (which is kind of ironic, seeing as he's native to Hong Kong, but it's not like a mainland Thai kid can say anything about that), but Bambam had listened to his fellow Youtuber for approximately one minute (and it was a shocker he'd let his ears be ruined by such garbage for such an extended period of time) and promptly decided he never wanted to listen to Jackson again. Sure, some of his jokes are kinda funny, for the mainstream public, that is. Bambam makes it clear that he and all his subscribers are above such trash.

"I'm sorry, I don't listen to mental faeces," Bambam says dryly, in a clipped tone, before doing an about turn and heading for his bed.

"...and welcome to Fashion Fridays, everyone! Today, I'm gonna be talking about something totally feminine that's even more girly than my leopard print tights or hot pink fedoras!"

Yugyeom promptly doubles up on the carpet, howling with laughter, and Bambam advances upon him suspiciously, grabbing the laptop lid and tugging it so the screen faces him.

A rather unpleasant and shocking sight greets him- Jackson (or whatever that imbecile's name is) is decked out in a ridiculous tie-dye tee and the most disgusting neon green tights Bambam has ever had the misfortune of witnessing, as well as a pair of stripy sunglasses, with a tiny pink fluffy scarf thing hanging down amidst the gelled spikes of his fringe that makes absolutely no sense until-...

Bambam's own hand flies unconsciously to the pink splash he'd dyed into his own hair not too long ago, and unpleasant realisation dawns upon him quickly.

"...and oh-em-gee!!? I think I chipped a nail!" Jackson gasps into the webcam, pulling an extremely exaggerated version of Bambam's trademark "omona!" face (which had gained him a significant number of subscribers when he'd first started out, so _shut up and stop judging, Yugyeom, what do you know about trendsetting)_. "Fashion emergency! Someone call 911!" Jackson is flailing about disturbingly on a pink bedspread behind him, and Bambam turns a slow shade of red.

He flicks a murderous stare to Yugyeom, who immediately stops laughing once he sees it and nods gravely. 

"Yes, really bad, wow, rude much? It's not even accurate," Yugyeom agrees seriously, until Jackson makes some joke about Bambam's expensive underwear and he cracks up again, dissolving into a giant bundle of weak giggles on the carpet.

Bambam rolls his eyes at the peasantry before him, not hesitating to give Yugyeom a kick, easily knocking the laptop lid shut with his foot as he does so, ignoring the whines and protests of _heyyy careful with that_ and _i'm sorry man really but that was fantastic_ in favour of flopping (stylishly, of course) back onto his bed, a smirk creeping into the edge of his lips.

_Some people just don’t know who they’re messing with._

*

"I can't believe you did that," Youngjae whispers out of the corner of his mouth in the middle of lecture the next day, and Bambam half-frowns as he tries to decipher both what the professor is writing about that piece they need to finish designing by next Tuesday and what Youngjae's talking about at the same time.

"Did what?" he asks shortly, squinting at a tiny scrawl in Korean that he can't understand. "Hey Jae, does that say "5cm" or "50m"?"

"It's in decametres, Bam," Youngjae says, without even looking, the incredulous look on his face not flickering for a second. "And I'm talking about your video response to Jackson!"

"Oh, that?" Kunpimook grins smugly, as he continues to copy the material on the board. "He needed to be taught a lesson."

"But the stuff you said about _attention-seeking antics_ and _blasé humour_ -…" Youngjae whispered urgently. "He has _fans_ , you know, he just hit the 250,000 milestone."

"He ought to know what goes around comes around," Kunpimook rolls his eyes, pausing from his scribbling to scrutinise for pencil marks on his pullover sleeve. "Just that some people do it classier than others."

There's a silence, in which Kunpimook can feel the heat of Youngjae's stare on the side of his face.

"Whoa, Bam," Youngjae finally says, raising an eyebrow. "I could never say something like that. I’m impressed."

"I know," Kunpimook flicks a speck of eraser dust from his jacket carelessly, leaning back in the seat, already turning the new assignment over in his head, grinning teasingly at the older boy. "You guys don't have to remind me all the time, wow."

This is where Youngjae turns back to his own notebook, snorting good-naturedly. “Your ego’s getting too big for your own good, Kunpimook-ah, one day someone’s going to need to tone you down.”

“Please, no one tones Bambam down,” Kunpimook scoffs at the ridiculous notion. It’s strange, then, that the image of an idiot wearing stupid neon green tights and a striped sunglasses mocking him flashes through his head. 

"Yeesh," Youngjae eventually turns back to his own notebook, his turn to roll his eyes. "Tell me that when you're as big as JJ Project or something. In the meantime, sure, keep doing fashion reviews. See where that gets you."

"You're one to talk," Kunpimook grumbles, displeased that someone had just uncovered and poked at that flaw. It’s _integrity_ , not the stubbornness to change, he insists, but sometimes it feels like it’s the world telling him that he can’t change, not himself, (yet another fact he chooses to ignore). "I'm not the one posting ten vids of myself singing ballads that all sound the same."

"They do not!" Youngjae says crossly. "Besides, you know I'm just doing that to build up a portfolio till I try auditioning for a label. This Youtube account's all you got, Bam. And I'm just saying, but you're gonna have to diversify if you want to get anywhere."

"You mean, start playing video games and make stupid humour vids?" Kunpimook says dryly. "Listen, I'm not sure where you've been for the past two years or so, but that is _not_ my style."

The professor gestures, and there's a collective groan of old chairs as the lecture theatre melts into disorder, people packing and getting up to go for their next lesson or back to their rooms.

"I'm just saying, Bam," Youngjae shrugs, sliding his pencils into his case. "Doesn't hurt to change things up for a bit, you know what I'm saying?"

*

Bambam decides later in the day he knows exactly what Youngjae is saying, and firmly decides to disagree with that statement. He's fine the way he is, life is good, he's come so far on nothing but his own two feet and it's not like he's about to bend over backwards for more subscribers or adoring fans.

Then he opens his laptop and is greeted by the Youtube equivalent of the Vietnam war.

He blinks, scrolling down the tons of posts he'd gotten on his account, some praising and fervently agreeing with his opinion, but mostly anonymous hate with poor grammar. He feels a stab of pride to see his own fans fighting back, but is mostly a little taken aback ( _not guilty, what, why would he be guilty_ ) to see a reaction of this calibre. Maybe Youngjae was right about the needing to tone down a bit on the insults.

(Not like he's going to admit it anytime soon, though.)

Kunpimook is considering putting up a post about how he's sorry things got this big, maybe to apologise to Jackson's fans (because he's proud, yeah, but he's not an immature asshole), and thank his fans for the support and request that stuff cool down between the two fandoms (but still including how technically it was Jackson who started all this) when one private message that catches his eye.

By the first few words, Bambam’s eyebrows are so far up his forehead it’s in the danger of disappearing into his bangs.

_TheJacksonShow says: Hey gorgeous! ;) Alright babe, I got it, you're tough as nails and it was dumb of me to mess with such hot stuff. Now what do you say we make up real good in a vid? The insults were fun while they lasted but to be fair to our fans, what do you say we both back off and let things cool down a bit, babe? I know when I've been defeated ;)_

Call me xoxo <3

Kunpimook blinks- he doesn’t know why, but it's mellower and calmer and, (dare he say?), more mature than he's ever imagined Jackson to be capable of, and instead of the scornful rebellion that would usually bubble forth within him at times like these, because there is nothing Kunpimook hates more than people who think they can tell him what to do (especially if they're right), he feels an odd sense of satisfaction and a good deal more at ease.

He has to admit at this point- Jackson has mad people skills. It's another side of him Bambam's never bothered to see past the crass humour (which suddenly seems wittier and cleverer now that Kunpimook thinks about it without scoffing immediately) and the egoism and overconfidence (also inexplicably changing to a well-placed self-esteem and clever attempts to make people feel at ease), and it's enough, very nearly enough to make Kunpimook wonder-...

_Bambalicious says: Glad to see someone knows when to accept defeat ;) You actually made more sense in that one message than all your vlogs combined, congratulations! How's a livestream sometime this week sound for an apology, hm?_

*

In two days, after a substantial thread of messages back and forth punctuated by Jackson’s flirty remarks and loaded with a bout of Bambam’s signature sarcasm, Kunpimook finds himself strangely nervous as he preps for the livestream, self-consciously tugging at the tousled spikes styled into his hair, wondering again for exactly the seventh time if the pink stripe’s too much. He’s never made an apology in public, much less to a camera which will be broadcasting said apology to what would probably be hundreds of fans.

_Hey hot stuff, you ready to go or what? ;) stop checking your hair, babe, you look fabulous._

Kunpimook’s hand drops from his bangs at once, and he scowls at his phone screen, despite knowing that Jackson isn’t able to see him and had probably just guessed with the usual annoying unerring accuracy about the hair. And the fact that he’d actually been dumb enough to ask Jackson for his number to talk about the livestream, because all the other boy had been doing for the past few days was text him squeamish boyfriend messages like hey babe how was your morning? ;) and going to sleep now, dream of me bam <3 despite Kunpimook blowing him off countless times with sarcastic replies and shallow insults. It’s almost annoying, except it’s not, not really, and Kunpimook can say he doesn’t mind, that he might almost be pleased with all the attention.

_He didn’t just say that. Really, he didn’t._

He’d need to have Jackson’s number, he’d reasoned, for convenient communication, because it’s not like he’s going to be on the computer all the time, but Jackson has a knack for turning serious logistics conversations into lighthearted chats about favourite flavours of ice cream and what they’d eaten for breakfast today and how well done they like steak, and the worst thing? Kunpimook had found himself going along with it all. There’s just something, something about the way Jackson is charming, witty, observant, and for the first time it’s like someone’s finally ahead of Bambam, dancing his way out of the younger boy’s snares and pitfalls as if he’s known how they’d been designed all his life, clever and quick-footed and teasing. 

It drives Kunpimook kind of crazy with curiosity and desire, but of course, that’s just going to be one of the things in that large volume of that extensive series entitled “Things that Will Never Pass Kunpimook Bhuwakul’s Hallowed Lips”. This time, he settles instead on rolling his eyes as he keys out a reply.

_Idiot. I was about to ask you the same thing. Better keep up or you’ll be left behind, airhead._

The “read” sign’s barely popped up beside the message when the request comes for approval of the livestream on his PC. Inhaling deeply and checking his reflection one last time, he carefully transforms his face, into the haughty, stylish boy his subscribers know and love, before he approves the livestream, and the screen splits in two, one with his own face and the other with the devilishly handsome one he’d come to know much better than he’d ever thought he would two days ago.

“Hey, this is your boy Jackson-…”

“And this is the fabulous Bambam,” Kunpimook adds in a smug tone, as rehearsed.

“And welcome to the JackBam show, special apology edition!” Jackson’s grin, even through the fuzzy quality of his monitor, is breathtaking, and Bambam almost stumbles on his next sentence.

“As you all know,” he pauses for a heartbeat longer than he’s supposed to, quickly gathering himself. “Jackson followed up on a subscriber’s request to parody some other classier Youtubers on the site than himself-…”

“Hey!” Jackson’s voice is affronted, a ridiculously exaggerated look of indignity on his face, and Bambam has to fight back a giggle to go on. That hadn’t been planned, yeah, but he was allowed a little of his own colour in his vids, right?

“And ended up with the misfortune of parodying none other than the most perfect one of them all, _moi_ ,” Bambam sighs in mock pain, waiting for Jackson to pick up the lead.

“And that was _too much_ for this piece of hot stuff right here!” Jackson continues seamlessly, voice sonorous, as though leading football commentary. “So our little geyser here just _had_ to cook up this sassy video response that might even surpass that of the almighty Jackson-…”

“Leading to an unfortunate internet war neither of us really saw coming,” Bambam tries to inject sincerity into his voice at this sentence, hoping most of the viewers are looking at Jackson’s side of the splitscreen, to where he’s nodding seriously (but somehow still in a hilarious way).

“We’re really sorry to both fandoms, the Wild and Sexies as well as our Bamaholics, and we hope that after this livestream, people will see how chummy we are and just… _let it go_ ,” Jackson says, with a completely straight face, and right on cue, a tincan recording of Idina Menzel starts belting out the corresponding lyrics from somewhere on Jackson’s side, and Bambam really can’t hold it back this time.

He laughs. Really laughs, exposing his teeth and half-flopping over on his bed, covering his face a second too late. When he lifts the hand from his face, Jackson is grinning, his face closer to the camera now, and somehow Kunpimook can see the cogs working behind those brilliant eyes, cooking up another great diabolical plan that Bambam’s probably going to be dragged into-…

“So as part of our attempt to show how absolutely sincere we are about becoming friends, we’ve decided to play a completely safe, vanilla, non-alcoholic version of I Have Never together, just for our subscribers!” Jackson grins, and Bambam half-chokes, half laughs.

“Uh, no, we haven’t,” Bambam raises an eyebrow, and Jackson immediately pulls a pout.

“But who wouldn’t want to get to know such an attractive, sassy, irresistible guy?” he asks as though it’s a real, serious question, donning his best puppy eyes.

“That’s going a bit far for self-praise, even for you, don’t you think?” Bambam snorts, flicking his bangs back.

“Oh, silly, I wasn’t talking about me,” Jackson grins, and it’s at that moment Bambam knows he’s fallen into Jackson’s crafty trap. “Babe, I was talking about you.”

Bambam makes a noise that’s somewhere between disbelief and embarrassment at the greasiness that Jackson would descend to (although by now he shouldn’t be surprised anymore), and to his surprise, a warmth rises to his cheeks that he has to turn away to hide.

“That’s-…that’s really going too far,” Kunpimook finds himself stuttering for the first time since he was six and broke his mother’s favourite cooking pot, and definitely for the first time on broadcast, and Jackson’s grin widens, having gotten the reaction he’d wanted.

“You think that about me, cutie?” he wiggles an eyebrow, and it takes everything Bambam has in him to remind himself he has a reputation to uphold, and laugh derisively.

“Yeah, keep dreaming, hot stuff,” he retorts, and Jackson chuckles, sliding back casually in his chair, falling easily into a part of the usual banter they’ve become so familiar with.

As Jackson had so rashly promised, they start into the impromptu drinking game (without the drinking, because despite the act, Bambam follows through on the whole not-drinking-on-broadcast-till-you’re-legal thing), and about eleven flirty jokes and seven exasperated insults later, Bambam realises it’s almost been an hour into the livestream with just them talking. It’s crazy, thinking that he used to have trouble maintaining a fifteen-minute vid on a certain topic by himself, when here, the two of them seemed to be able to go on without any particular subjects in mind for hours.

He only remembers they’re on broadcast when Jackson brings up the comments section on his screen, and Bambam quickly does likewise, feeling relieved when he sees their stream having the desired effect, with people not hurling insults at each other about their mental capacity in bad spelling.

He isn’t as happy when he sees a particular comment that catches his eye.

“Alright, who’s _Jacklover34_ and why do they want to see us _get a room_?” he says sardonically. “Obviously they’d be one of Jackson’s fans, with all that crude humour-…”

“Funny you say that,” Jackson leers over from his section of the screen. “When _Bamshionista_ here’s talking about how I’m looking at you like I wanna just _eat you up_. Thanks for that extremely informative and accurate comment, although I’m pretty sure it applies more to someone else~”

“More like I’m looking at your bedroom décor through your screen and wanting to throw up,” Bambam scoffs. “Is that seriously an orange chequered bedspread with green polka dots? What were you planning to do, grow something on it?”

“Why don’t you get over here and give me a reason to change the sheets, then, babe,” Jackson literally breathes onto the mike, the husky undertones of his voice, coupled with the professionally seductive lip swipe and lusty wink, making Bambam want to both strangle and lick him at the same time. 

“Why don’t you take a look at yourself first, and toddle back to the sandbox with your toys,” Bambam shoots back coolly, ignoring the butterflies working up a storm in his stomach. “And come back when you’re a big enough boy to handle me?”

There’s a long chain of messages roughly along the line of “ _oooohhh he did not_ ” and “ _shit just went downnnn_ ” on the chatbox, as the grin on Jackson’s face spreads to manic proportions.

“Hey, you know what, I’ve got an even better proposition,” he says, leaning forward into the camera a little to show he isn’t joking anymore, a glint of what almost seems like hope behind the flickers of harmless mischief and excitement in his dark eyes. “What say we make The JackBam Show a regular thing, if you know what I’m saying? How’s that sound, _Bambam_?”

Bambam doesn’t bother trying to hide the grin on his face this time, as he eases into his plush spinning chair, tapping a finger against his lower lip, as though considering it.

“Only if you’re sure you can keep up, _Jackson_ ,” he shrugs after a moment’s thought, and the chat box silently explodes with keyboard smashes and aggressive virtual wolf-whistling.

They stay on a little longer after that, reading out embarrassing fan messages and commenting on the football season and teasing each other (mostly from Jackson, and mostly directed at Bambam, but eh), even doing the ridiculous sappy couple thing, just to draw a reaction from the fans.

“You hang up first, babe.”

“No you hang up,” Bambam insists, fully immersed in his inner kdrama girl spirit, wiping a mock tear from his eyes. “I can’t bear to hang up on you, darling.”

“Me neither, so let’s just sit here in limbo, draining household electricity,” Jackson says, feigning a rather classic starry-eyed lover look, and Bambam snorts.

“Lol, ok, bye,” he grins as he covers the webcam with his thumb, and laughs properly when he hears Jackson’s outraged cry over the speaker, before moving his hand, laughing even harder at the look on Jackson’s face. 

“That hurt me, babe,” Jackson places a hand over his chest, frowning, and Bambam swears he’s never laughed so much before. There’s a pause after that, where Bambam recoils, stomach aching from the gales of laughter.

“What’s this I see? _Bamtastic-elastic_ says they’ve never seen you laugh like this before?” Jackson gasps. “A laugh this absolutely gorgeous and you’ve never used it on broadcast?! Bamaholics have been missing _out_.”

“No surprise, seeing as I’m stuck here with someone this ridiculous,” Bambam says through a weak chuckle. It’s true, though, he’s never felt so relaxed on air before. It’s a different feeling. The nice kind of different.

“Well then that’s about to change, because I’m gonna be butting into your vids more from now on,” Jackson grins, and Bambam’s heart leaps a little at the implications of that promise. “A _lot_ more. And when I say butting, I mean _butting_. With emphasis on the butt. Did I mention I’d be butting in?”

“Yes, thank you for the anatomy lesson, _professor_ ,” Bambam rolls his eyes, dabbing at a smudge in his eyeliner.

“Oh, so you’re into that now, are you?” Jackson switches smoothly to that overtly seductive voice he’d used not too long ago, and once more Kunpimook finds himself in stitches.

 

(They hang up, eventually, of course, with many promises to hopeful fans for another stream sooner or later. Maybe sooner, with the way things look.)

Kunpimook feels relaxed after that, like a giant burden he never knew was there has been lifted off his shoulders, and when he gets back to his laptop after a shower, ignoring the curious looks Yugyeom had sent him (probably after hearing all the laughter coming from his room), he’s about to add a few final touches on the design project when his phone buzzes with a chat notification. A smile inches onto his face, despite the already happily exhausted facial muscles, when he picks it up and unlocks it.

_Don’t sleep too late, gorgeous ;) a pretty face like yours has got to have a healthy body too, right?_

He’s just about to key in reply in the usual sarcastic tone when another message pops up, longer this time.

 _So uh, what would you say to a coffee sometime at Starbucks or something? We should get to know each other beyond the Youtube profile if we’re going to be long-term partners on this, you know ;)_

A squeamish pink cloud of teenage pubescent hormonal crush-feelings wells up within Kunpimook, and he has to fight down the feelings, remind himself to be careful with so-called strangers, no matter how charming or attractive or witty, and he types out a quick reply before stuffing his phone under his blankets and trying to forget about it.

_Sure, if you’re sure you know what you’re getting into ;) how does next Tuesday lunch sound?_

Maybe Youngjae’s right, after all, he muses as he sinks into his bed that night, still embarrassed and in denial and just maybe a little in love. 

Maybe all he needed was a little change.


End file.
